


For a Reason

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Timelines, Angst, EWE, It's angst, M/M, Not A Happy Ending, don't hate me too much, drarryhellangstoff, maybe bittersweet?, please cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-04-24 14:03:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In which Harry majorly fucks up an experimental time-travel potion





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-beta'd and not edited very much bc I'm awful with deadlines. Please let me know if you see any errors or things that don't quite make sense! Comments feed my soul<3
> 
> Tw for mentions of suicidal ideation and alcoholism in the second chapter

**Time change potion**

 

A theoretical potion for allowing the user to go back or forward in time to view and change events. Further attempts and research were banned by the Ministry after a disastrous test by Arran Silvester in 1877.  This is the recipe he noted as using, however.

 

Ingredients

Ashwinder egg

3 Bananas, peeled

1 ounce beetles eyes

50 ml Belladonna fluid

5 ml blood (Silvester did not specify type, presumably that of the intended user, given the small quantity)

Medium dandelion root

Jobberknoll feather

5 ounces lavender buds

2 newt eyes and one newt spleen

7 ounces sage leaves

1 L seawater

Thaumatagoria (unspecified amount, though the standard at the time was 2 ounces)

20 ounces ground thyme

Tincture of Demiguise

 

Process

  1. Simmer seawater. Grind beetle eyes and bananas together, then add to water. 
  2. Stir in belladonna with quartz stirring wand, 21 stirs clockwise.
  3. Chop newt parts and dandelion. Mix with ashwinder egg in separate (cold) cauldron.
  4. Add tincture of demiguise to egg cauldron, and add low heat. 
  5. After cauldron with seawater and belladonna has been sitting for 10 minutes, add jobberknoll feather and sage leaves.
  6. Add egg mixture to main cauldron, slowly, stirring anticlockwise with quartz stirring wand no more than 10 times.
  7. Add thaumatagoria, remove from heat, and let sit for 3 days.
  8. If user wishes to go back in time, add final ingredients on dusk of third day, if user wishes to go forward, add ingredients on dawn of fourth day.
  9. Add half of the thyme, then lavender buds, then the other half of the thyme. Do not stir.
  10. Stir in blood with one stir anticlockwise and 7 stirs clockwise (for forward movement, switch numbers for backward movement).
  11. Prepare a bath at 27 degrees. Have user get in bath BEFORE adding potion.
  12. Once potion is added, user should relax, hold breath, then completely submerge self in water.



 

Harry closed  _ Forbidden and Forgotten Potions  _ with a sigh. “I’m sorry Hermione,” he whispered to the air. He paid 10 galleons for the tome and left the shop in Knockturn Alley with a quiet determination.

 

FaR-FaR-FaR

  
  


Sunlight streamed in the windows of their flat, lazily waking Draco up. He rolled over to see his sleeping husband, and smiled. “Good morning, love,” he said, brushing hair out of Harry’s face.

Harry shifted, but his eyes remained shut. “Too early,” he muttered, and tried to nudge Draco away. Rather than roll back over, Draco straddled him, smirking. “C’mon it’s almost,” he cast a Tempus, reading 8:44, “it’s almost noon. We’ll miss Ginny’s wedding if you sleep any more.”

“Liar.” Harry’s eyes were still closed. 

Draco chuckled, “maybe a smidge. But really, get up and let’s have breakfast, before I eat you for breakfast instead of that wonderful omelet you make.”

Harry’s eyes popped open, and he looked down suggestively, grinning. “I don’t know, I rather like the sound of you eating me for breakfast.”

Draco rolled his hips and leaned down by Harry’s ear. “You have the  _ tastiest _ ideas.” Draco got off his husband and swung his legs off the side of their bed. “But I really do think that should wait until after we have actual food.”

Harry groaned, “this is going to be a  _ hard _ day.”

Draco threw a pillow at him and went to the kitchen.

 

After an omelet for Draco, pancakes for Harry, and a rendezvous for the both of them, the men got dressed and apperated to the Burrow. Ginny, now 29, was finally getting married. She and her wife-to-be had been flirting and dancing around each other for the past two years, if you asked Ron, ten if you talked to Hermione. The wedding was going to be in a small tree grove about a kilometer from the Burrow, with the reception back at the house.

In lieu of helping out at this wedding (thinking of the wild preparations of Bill’s, then Ron’s, Charlie’s, and Percy’s, weddings still tired him), he had hired a team of house elves and ordered the catering to help Mrs. Weasley out. Normally he liked doing things himself, of course, but a little bird had told him this was going to be the biggest Weasley wedding yet, and frankly, he’d rather just show up. Ginny had invited all of her team, the Harpy’s, Luna had invited all of her fellow researchers, and then of course there were all the friends and extended family members, which there were more of now, as three of the four married Weasley siblings had kids. 

Upon arrival, Mrs. Weasley directed him to Ginny’s room, and Draco to the appetizer table and path to the wedding setup. They shared a kiss, and Harry went up to join the other bride’s men (Ginny’s brothers) in keeping the bride-to-be company and helping her in her final preparations. Hermione was there too, despite technically being one of Luna’s bridesmaids. Apparently, Ginny had declared the whole men/maids tradition to be heteronormative, but Luna had said, “I don’t know, that tradition has always seemed sweet to me. The wedding train though, that’s a good way to attract nargles and wrackspurts.” So Ginny had bridesmen, and Luna bridesmaids, but neither was to have a train on their head, only simple daisy crowns.

Harry pushed open the door to Ginny’s room to see Ron putting said crown on his sister as Percy painted her fingernails gold and Hermione was charming her gown to glow like the setting sun. 

“Hey Harry!”

“How’s Draco?”

“Good to see you!”

“YO best man get over here!!”

Harry laughed at the Weasley chorus and allowed himself to be smothered in a quick group hug. “Now seriously,” Ron said as they pulled away, “come help out with Ginny since you’re apparently her favorite brother and all.”

“RONALD,” Ginny twisted around to fuss as Percy fought to pin down her left arm. “Leave Harry be, you know I had to choose him because if I picked any of you I’d never hear the end of it!”

“Yeah well, you really think you’re going to hear the end of my best mate being chosen over me, your favorite brother??’

That got George and the others drawn into the bickering, so Harry walked over to the farthest corner, and waved at Hermione. She hastily finished her charms before George caused the obligatory explosion (all in good fun of course), and joined him.

“At this rate we’ll never get her down to the tree grove in time,” Hermione shook her head but smiled.

“Nah, don’t worry, they’re all too afraid of you and Ginny’s wrath should she actually late.”

“Ha, you’re right. Bickering may be a family trait, but this is a family  _ celebration _ we’re talking about. Besides, my sister-in-law is too nervous about letting Luna down to let anything really distract her.”

Harry winced in sympathy. “Wedding anxiety, that’s the worst.”

Hermione nodded in agreement and the pair turned back to the siblings as the bickering died down.

 

It was a beautiful wedding, and they were a lovely couple. Draco and Harry both teared up when the Weasley-Lovegoodds sealed their union with a kiss. The reception was a whirl of color, champagne, and cake; with a teasing speech from Harry and a sweet poem by Hannah Abbott, Luna’s maid of honor. The party was carrying late into the night, but Harry and Draco said their goodbyes at 10, since Draco had work in the morning.

Back at the flat, Harry drew a bath in their large magically-expanded tub and began to undress. 

“I’ll join you in a minute,” Draco said, “I want to see if Heather brought me any mail from the office.”

“Of course,” Harry kissed his cheek.

After his husband had gone to check the owl, Harry shut off the water and got in. It was pleasantly warm, with a little steam rising. Perfect to ease his muscles, sore from all the dancing at the reception. He sighed and stretched out. Then, following a moment’s consideration, he slid entirely under the water for a more complete enjoyment of the warmth.

Not quite a minute later, when Draco returned to join Harry in the bath, his Harry was nowhere to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that canonically all the time-turners were destroyed in the Ministry battle in book five. Apologies if the house-elf talk is off, I have a really hard time writing their mode of speech.

Harry lifted his head from the bath water and brushed his hair from his face. He was immediately hit with a pungent smell-- rotten eggs and herbs? He blinked water from his eyes and reached to the side of the tub for his glasses, sensing something was wrong. 

“Ow!” he hissed as his arm hit the side of the tub, a  _ lot _ closer than it should have been. Wincing, Harry felt along the side of the tub for his glasses. It felt wrong too, and immediately the colors registered. This was the wrong tub, a standard-issue off-white tub, small, and filled with a murky olive green water. 

He recoiled in surprise and disgust, and promptly hit his head against the wall. 

Swearing he stood up and tried to focus on something, anything, as he clumsily climbed out of the tub. Thankfully there was a rug, at least. His foot nudged something. He couldn’t see what it was, so he bent down. Glasses!

He put them on. They weren’t his glasses. Or rather, they weren’t his new, stylish pair Draco had made him get. And the prescription was a bit outdated. They were his old, black-rimmed pair. He heartbeat picked up, and he struggled to control his breathing. 

Someone had portkeyed him into their bathtub -- how they’d managed to get the portkey into his bath he had no clue-- and had left his old glasses lying out for him. He’d had crazy fans before, but this seemed right out of a serial killer novel.

He glanced around real quick, taking in the tiny bathroom. Clothes on the floor, a vaguely familiar wallpaper, dingy countertop, and… his wand!!

Harry grabbed his wand with relief, then trepidation. At least he had his wand to face whoever his captive was. But that meant they thought they could easily contain him.

Turning to look at the bathwater one more time, this time with clear-ish vision, he saw a feather and some random leaves floating in the murky stinky mess.

His captor was batshit crazy.

The anxiety was building in him (he hadn’t had a real, overt enemy in years), but Harry refused to cave to it. To confirm his earlier hunch that the captor believed they could contain him even with his wand, he tried to apparate home.

… and went nowhere. He couldn’t feel any of the traditional anti-apparition wards restraining him though, so that was odd. Harry walked toward the door, to see if whoever it was had bothered to lock it, trying to shake the feeling he knew this room. But before he reached the door, his wet feet came out from under him. 

“SHITE”, his bruises from Draco that morning were not appreciative of his landing. Couldn’t he have thought to dry himself off before attempting to leave the bathroom? He tried to stand, but a loud  _ POP _ had him on the floor again. 

“Is Master Harry okay?” a concerned Kreacher peered down at him. “Told the idiot not to try it, look what happened, and older to boot. Foolish foolish foolish,” the elf muttered to himself in the second it took Harry to make sense of what had happened.

“Kreacher!” he cried, ignoring the elf’s mad ramblings as always. “Oh thank Merlin, you gotta get me out of here, or at least fetch Draco. Yes, fetch Draco, and change out of that dirty pillowcase before Hermione tans my hide,” he said, pointedly glaring at the old yellow pillowcase that used to be a favorite of Kreacher’s.

Kreacher blinked owlishly at him. “Something bad happened, Kreacher knew it. Master has lost his gobstones. Mister Draco and the muggleborn have been dead for years, Master Harry. And this is Kreacher’s favorite pillowcase.”

 

FaR-FaR-FaR

 

Draco dropped the glass of wine he’d carried into the bathroom with him. Something was wrong with Harry. He looked a couple years younger, and just plain  _ wrong _ .

Harry looked over at the noise of broken glass, squinting because he was blind as a bat. Without a thought, Draco vanished the glass and rushed over to where Harry would be able to see him, and so he could assess what had happened to his love.

“Malfoy?!” Harry jumped back in the tub, and Draco flinched. Harry hadn’t called him that since before they started dating. Okay, so it wasn’t polyjuice, since this Harry definitely looked a bit younger and different, but this definitely wasn’t Harry either. Draco drew his wand.

“Whoever you are, this is a downright rotten attempt at impersonating my husband. I’ll give you until the count of three to tell me where he is before I blast your arse to France and back.”

“Husband, what? I’m Harry Potter how could I be…”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. The actor had Harry’s oblivious-ness down at least, even if he was years behind on the gossip. “One.”

“I didn’t even know you were gay! You died before I-- wait how are you alive???” Not-Harry rambled. Draco lowered his wand in disbelief. Okay, so not-Harry was… cracked, to say the least. But didn’t seem like much of a threat. Couldn’t hurt to be cautious, however, especially if he were dealing with a madman. 

“ _ Incarcerous. _ ”

“Whoa Malfoy, what the fuck! Let me go! Where the hell am I, in your pouncy bathroom? No,  _ when _ am--”

“ _ Silencio. _ ”

Draco rubbed his temples as not-Harry mouthed some presumably foul things at him. It was too late for this. Well, that couldn’t be helped. He needed his husband back.

Draco spelled some clothes on the man, put some on himself, then levitated not-Harry behind him as he walked to the fireplace. Why did the universe love to pull shit on his husband (and by extension him)?

Hopefully, Hermione would be able to help him out with this newest headache. Draco renewed the spells on not-Harry, just to be sure, and floo-called Granger’s Cottage. As expected, their nicely-dressed  _ clothed _ elf Flipsy answered the Floo (it had been a hassle to get Kreacher to wear a nice looking pillowcase, Draco still had no idea how Hermione had convinced her elf to wear clothes and take days off).

“Mister Draco! Pleasure to see you!” Flipsy squeaked. “Are things being urgent? Mistress is a bit busy.” (Draco loved that Flipsy knew he never called for Ron)

“Yes, I’m afraid so. There’s a …. predicament over here, and Harry’s missing. I’m hoping Hermione can help.”

Flipsy’s eyes widened and her ears went back. “Right away, sir!” she nodded and apparated away, presumably to the bedroom. 

Not a minute later, Hermione and Ron came half-running towards the floo, Ron still trying to button up his nightshirt. 

“Draco! What’s Flipsy saying? Harry’s gone?”

Draco eyed the orange pain-in-the-arse behind her, then nodded. “You better come through, I don’t have the patience to handle this on my own tonight.”

Ron moaned, “It’s been a long day, why’d Harry have to disappear now?”

“Tell me about it.”

 

FaR-FaR-FaR

 

“What do you mean, DEAD?”

“Master is not remembering? The nice mister Draco lost his life after the Battle of Hogwarts for defying the Dark Lord, and the mud- muggleborn in the second battle of the ministry.”

“That's ridiculous! I was just with Draco! And the war ended at Hogwarts, only one ministry battle-- did George put you up to this? This is NOT funny.”

Kreacher only squinted at him and motioned him to follow. Harry (too preoccupied to remember he was naked) followed him out of the bathroom. And realized where he was.

“Grimmauld place?” Harry furrowed his brow. “But this is all wrong, I remodeled it, and set it up for…” Harry's brain stopped its train of thought before he could consider the implications of this. 

Kreacher led him into his old room and gestured to the left wall before he left, muttering.

It was a wall of photos. Some moving, some still, and some clipped from The Prophet. Harry sat down heavily on the bed.

In the middle of the wall were some pictures arranged like a memorial: Ginny, Hermione, Fred, and Neville. A little table with candles sat in front of it. On either side were two columns of pictures. Order members, students, and on the last column to the far right, three down from the top, a Prophet clipping of Draco.

Harry's throat constricted. All he could think of was Kreacher's words “ _ have been dead for years _ ” and the question: 

What the fuck  _ happened _ in that bath?

 

FaR-FaR-FaR

 

“What happened?” 

Draco gestured in the direction of not-Harry. “Not sure exactly, Harry was in the bath and I went to go check on Heather. I came back a couple minutes later, and this goon was on the bath and called me  _ Malfoy _ .”

Hermione frowned and went to get a closer look at not-Harry, still bound and levitating a half-meter off the floor, as Draco had left him. When Hermione came into his field of vision, not-Harry began to tear up.

Ron and Draco moved beside Hermione as she started performing a series of spells she undoubtedly learned as an Unspeakable. Her frown deepened after a moment of flashing blues and greens. She conjured a blank piece of parchment, and cast a quick series of nonverbal spells on it, then on not-Harry. Draco tried to get a look at the parchment, but it kept getting hit with different streams of light, so he couldn't make much out. 

A moment later, Hermione finally stopped the spells. Grabbing the parchment, she walked towards the sofa as she read it, and plopped down. She was clearly frazzled.

“What, er…” Draco wasn't even sure what his question was. Hermione didn't notice him.

“ ‘Mione, what did you learn?” Ron asked softly. Now she looked up. First at him, then Draco, then back again. Then at the parchment. 

“Well, Dravo was right, it's definitely not polyjuice. The spells read negative for that, as well as any other charms or potions to conceal, change, or otherwise deceive. Everything I could think of. Then I ran modified versions of some diagnostic charms, like the ones St Mungo's uses. And, well, here.” 

She passed the paper to Ron, who held it out so Draco could read with him.

 

Identity: Harry James Potter

Age: 24

Sex: male 

Spells: incarcerous, silencio

Potions: trace, unknown topical

Magical bonds: negative

Magical vows: negative

Soul magic: residual dark

Magical objects: negative

Health: below average

Brain: NDE trauma, severe psychological trauma

Heart: healthy, 120 bpm

Nutrition: below average vitamin and mineral content

Bones: below average density, healed breaks in ribs  and tibia, regrown arm

Nerve system: healthy

Liver: slightly damaged 

Excretion system: healthy

Lymphatic system: healthy

Muscles: underdeveloped

Other organs: weak eyesight, damaged skin: scar tissue and recent degradation of chemical nature

State of thoughts: confusion, worry, relief, sorrow, mentions of caster

State of magic: mostly light in nature, strong healthy core

Magical footprint: almost nonexistent, all interactions in last hour

End Diagnostic Transcription 

  
  


“I wish this magic you know wasn't so…”

“Unspeakable?”

Draco nodded. “The amount of information here is incredible. But Harry is 28, not 24, so are you positive about the identification?”

“Yes, unfortunately. That spell is really hard to fool. It relies on the person's memories of themselves. The only time it was fooled was, erm, can't mention the details, but the person had severe brain damage after the fact. And damage that severe would show up here,” she stood and pointed to the “Brain:” line.

“So did he time travel or something?” Ron asked.

“No, not exactly, I don't think. For one, there's no magical bonds present. For another,  that last line. I've only performed that spell twice before, so it's possible I could have made an error, but I don't think I did.”

“What's the--”

“What does it--”

Ron and Draco spoke at the same time. Ron nodded for Draco to go ahead.

“What's the importance of the magical bond line?”

Hermione looked at him apologetically. “Do you remember the knot-tying at your wedding?” Draco nodded. “Well it's not only symbolic, but--”

“--has magical implications, but what does that--” Draco stopped as he realized, and his stomach dropped.

“He's never been married. There should be a two year old marital bond detected. But there's nothing.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron swore. Hermione nodded, and the three of them stared at the parchment quietly in silence for a moment.

Ron broke it with his question, “so what exactly does the magical footprint bit mean?”

Hermione bit her lip. “It's a newer spell designed to see how much impact a person has had on the magical fabric of the world. Harry here should have had a huge impact, unless he's never actually been in this world at all.”

“So…” Draco paused, digesting the information. “He's  _ A _ Harry, but not  _ OUR _ Harry? He's from… somewhere else?”

“I believe so, yes. I can't think of another viable explanation.  Different time, different world. Parallel universes have been conceived of, of course, my coworker wrote her thesis over the concept, but we've never had proof. Until now. Gosh, this changes so much! Disproves the hypothesis that temporal and spatial travel across parallels cannot be performed simultaneously, for starters. Even has mild implications for my current project-- which I'm afraid is still classified-- but,” Ron laid a hand on her arm.

“Sorry, it's just…”

“Don't apologize, I quite understand. This is… quite a bit,” Draco sighed. “What should we do now?”

Ron answered this time. “We should question him. Maybe he knows how this happened, or has some idea. And definitely keep an eye on him, but if he didn't seem particularly aggressive before, he's probably not a threat. Knowing our Harry though, he might try to run if he's blindsided.”

Draco's lips twitched nigh imperceptibly. He wasn't particularly fond of Ron, but he was certainly a decent Auror. A few flicks of his wand later, wrong-Harry was sitting in the armchair, unbound and able to talk. 

The trio situated themselves on the sofa, and looked at the familiar stranger. He was freely crying now, and couldn't take his eyes off Hermione. For a heartbeat no one said anything.

Then: “you're alive,” wrong-Harry whispered. 

That settled it. “Kreacher!” Draco called out.  _ crack _ . “Yes, Master Draco?”

“Cocoa and sweets please. And maybe some liquor,” he added as an afterthought.

Kreacher bowed. “Right away.”

Once Kreacher had left again, Ron straightened up. “So, er, Harry, how did you get here? Do you know what happened to our Harry?”

Draco interrupted before wrong-Harry could even open his mouth. “No interrogations until after I have some cocoa. Can't handle any more strangeness without chocolate.”

“Hermione--” wrong-Harry croaked. Draco shot him a glare. He shut his mouth. Well at least wrong-Harry wasn’t so different that his glares were ineffective.

Silence stretched, and Draco was irritated to note not-Harry was _ still _ staring at Hermione like a sad puppy. So they didn’t get married in this supposed-parallel universe, surely his parallel self still  _ meant _ something to Harry there?

Thankfully not a minute later, Kreacher returned with the cocoa. Seeing the look on Draco’s face, the experienced elf handed him a chocolate-coated cookie with his cocoa.  The other biscuits and candies went on a little tray on the coffee table, along with the bottle of alcohol. 

Once everyone, including wrong-Harry, had their cocoa, Ron raised an eyebrow at Draco, “Now can we begin?”

Draco nodded, then spoke before Ron could.

“Now, Harry, if that really is who you are, where is  _ my _ Harry? How did this happen?”

“I don’t know! I swear! This wasn’t meant to happen. I’m really sorry, Hermione, I broke my promise. I know you told me not to, and for a reason, a good reason, but I had to  _ try _ .” He was no longer crying, but his voice was mournful.  _ Can’t even keep his attention for two bloody seconds,  _ Draco thought, and angrily took a bite out of his cookie.

Ron still had his Auror voice on. “What do you mean ‘this wasn’t meant to happen’? What  _ did  _ you mean to do?”

“And what promise, Harry?” Hermione asked gently.

Wrong-Harry ignored Ron in favor of answering Hermione, still staring at her. “Don’t you remember?” he whispered. “I had a breakdown after the Death Eater attack that got Ginny. I wanted to see if there was some way to travel back in time without a time turner, to fix things. You said that was dangerous, that it would take too much time to wait for the Unspeakables to make more time turners, and that there were no other known methods of time travel that worked, much less safely. You made me promise not to try. That you didn’t stupefy me at the Battle of Hogwarts just for me to gamble with death again. And then you died.”

Cold understanding filled Draco, and his heart broke for this Harry he didn’t know.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, and Ron instinctively pulled his wife closer. “I’m sorry, mate,” he began, “that’s awful. But that didn’t happen here. Hermione is alive, as you can see, and as far as I know she didn’t stupefy you-- er, our Harry--” Hermione nodded to confirm this, “ during the Battle of Hogwarts.  And Ginny is safe too. Married Luna today, actually. The war ended at the Battle of Hogwarts, and all the Death Eater were rounded up shortly after. Many surrendered once Voldemort died.”

A charm on Hermione’s bracelet began to glow. She stood up, “I’m sorry, our daughter just woke up and needs me, I--” Ron stood up and shook his head. “No, you stay. I’ll go to Rose. He needs you.” 

She hesitated, then nodded. They shared a quick kiss before Ron went to the floo. “Be back in a jiffy,” he tried to muster a grin.

“Wait, give her one of these from Uncle Dwaco,” Draco tossed Ron a candy. Hermione started to protest, but he just raised an eyebrow, daring her to challenge him spoiling his niece. 

She narrowed her eyes in response, “once you adopt, it’s over,” she promised.

“We’ll see about that,” he smirked.

Ron just rolled his eyes and stepped into the flames.

Wrong-Harry hesitantly stood. “You have a daughter?”

Hermione smiled, “Yes, we do. Rosie. She’s four. And a son, Hugo, who’s almost one. Unlike his sister he tends to sleep through the night alright. Though he always wants a bottle at 4 in the morning.”

On impulse, Harry stepped forward and hugged Hermione. “I’m so happy for you,” was what Draco was pretty sure he mumbled into her hair.

“I think I’m going to spike my cocoa, if anyone wants to join me,” Draco announced.

 

FaR-FaR-FaR

 

Kreacher popped back into the bedroom, and shoved a treacle tart and a cup of tea into Harry’s hands. He didn’t seem to know what to say, though, and just started dusting random objects in the room. 

Harry ate the tart, grateful for the distraction. “How did I get here?” he asked, though he instinctively knew the elf had no idea.

And indeed, Kreacher looked at him strangely. “Uncertain what you is meaning.  You have been here all day, excepting whatever happened during your experiment.”

“Experiment?”

“Forgotten? Kreacher warned against it, yes, but Master insisted. Made a potion to try and fix the past. Seems a failure, just changed your memories and grew your hair.”

Harry touched his hair self-consciously. Were all his memories of Draco really false? Of fixing up Grimmauld Place? Of Ginny's wedding?

He couldn't believe it, it all seemed so  _ real _ . He needed to talk to Draco, or Hermione.

But apparently they were both dead.

“Who's still alive? Of my friends, I mean?”

“Master talks to Lovegood most days. Ronald, sometimes. Bill Weasley and Fleur.” Kreacher pursued his lips. “I am not remembering anyone else you is talking to with frequency.”

“Luna, she might…” Harry trailed off, unsure how he was going to finish that sentence. “I want to talk to Luna, what's her floo address?” 

“Greenfield cottage, Isle of Skye.”

Well that sounded like Luna. Though from what Harry remembered, Luna had lived in a flat down the street from Ginny’s in Holyhead before they moved in together.

Harry finished his tea and handed his dishes back to Kreacher. Then he walked to the fireplace, lit it, and flooed to Luna's.

When he stepped out of the floo, Harry knew he'd made the right choice. It was a quaint little living room, with hand-painted floral walls, plants on the windowsill, a bulletin board of strange creature sightings, two small bookshelves, and a peculiar assortment of artifacts hanging from the ceiling.

Luna popped her head around the corner of the room's entryway, and smiled when she saw Harry. 

“Hi Harry! Just a minute, I need to finish feeding the Thworshback.”

Her head disappeared again, followed by some squeals and gurgles, then a final  _ pop _ . She walked into the living room, taking off a pair of dragonite gloves. When she was about a meter away from him, Luna cocked her head to the side and considered him for a moment. Harry, somewhat used to Luna's observations, stood still so she could see whatever it was.

“I suppose I should say nice to meet you, since I haven't met this version of you before,” Luna grinned, then hugged him. Harry hugged tightly back.

“How did you enter this universe? Did a pollyoculous help you?”

“Sorry, Luna, I lost you. Do you mean I'm not from here?”

“Of course not, silly. Trust your senses! Though I am glad to see this version of you has a much happier aura and fewer wrackspurts.” she adjusted her glasses.

Harry let out a shuddering breath. Well that would explain some things, and Harry felt better with the idea he hadn't imagined everything. 

He hadn't realized he'd voiced this sentiment aloud, though, until Luna responded. “No, you didn't imagine whatever it was. Harder to fabricate memories than most people think, really. It is interesting though that you came here without meaning to. The Harry that's supposed to be here isn't, either?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Kreacher said something about a time travel attempt.”

Luna's eyes widened a bit. “My, he didn't bother to mention  _ that _ .” 

“Sorry,” Harry said, reflexively. 

“No, no…” Luna trailed off, lost in her thoughts.

“Do you know how I might be able to get back?”

She focused on Harry with a sudden intenseness. “You're missing someone.” It wasn't a question.

“My husband, Draco.”

Luna directed him to sit down and summoned some sort of fruit juice.

“We'll look at what Harry did, but I have a feeling it's not easily reversible, especially if he traveled space instead of time,” she paused. “No, you're older. He did both.”

“What about that creature you mentioned, the polioctupus?”

“Pollyoculous. And maybe. I'll have to talk to someone first.” Knowing Luna, she wouldn't specify who if he asked.

“I don't mean to alarm you, but Draco might be some time away.”

Harry's throat constricted. He tried not to think about Draco, scared and fretting. Missing him. 

Luna seemed to notice his anxiety about Draco, and changed the subject. “Well, since you're here, why don't we figure out the differences between the universes? How many primary colors are there?”

“Er….”

And so began a Luna style question-and-answer session. Eventually, she summoned an (accurate) Quick Quotes Quill to take notes for a future Quibbler article. Of course, they soon wound around to the war. Luna explained how at the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione figured out Harry was planning on walking right up to Voldemort. How she stupefied him, then put him in a full body bind until the battle was over. How many students and Order members died before the Death Eaters were driven away. How something in Draco snapped, seeing so many classmates dead. How he challenged Voldemort in the middle of it all, and how Voldemort crucio'd him til he was seizing and cast him aside. How his mother cried. And how Voldemort came to the Manor the following week and Imperius'd Lucius Malfoy into killing his own son. The following day, they attacked the Burrow again, hoping that Harry was there, but how when he wasn't the lead Death Eater killed Ginny. How the remaining Order members caught word the Death Eaters were going to fortify the Ministry as a new headquarters and take an even more complete control over the country. They saw an opportunity and organized an attack. From the start, it went badly. The Order was outnumbered, and desperate. It was chaos. Luna said the only thing Harry had told her he remembered was seeing Hermione fall, and fighting his way to combat Voldemort directly. Dying, then coming back and finally destroying Voldemort. How awful it was fighting their way out of the enraged Death Eaters. And how it wasn't the Order that ended the Death Eaters at all, but the infighting that ensued in the following weeks. The trials, the funerals, everything. Harry drinking himself nearly to death.

And Harry told her how much quicker everything ended in his world. How people got to fall in love and have children. How he ran into Draco at a wizarding gay club after the trials, and how their rivalry turned into sex into love. How they married. How Luna fell for Ginny. How beautiful their wedding was.

The pair of new-old friends talked and cried late into the night, and finally fell asleep curled up hugging on the sofa.

 

FaR-FaR-FaR

 

“You go ahead, but I'm trying to stay sober.”

“You're an alcoholic?” Hermione asked, clearly surprised. 

Before wrong-Harry could answer, the flames in the fireplace turned green and Ron returned.

“Just a bug. Rosie is sound asleep again. She said to thank you for the candy, Draco. What'd I miss?”

“Good,” Draco smiled. 

“Oh, you know, Harry here revealing he's an alcoholic.” Hermione deadpanned, then shooting the man in question an accusatory glare.

“What?” 

Wrong-Harry shrunk back as three pairs of eyes turned on him. “It was hard, after everything, and my therapist only did so much. She brought me down from being suicidal and whatnot, but then after two years she retired, and no one else really helped. I started to get bad again, drank a lot, went to rehab, and came out again, but I still wasn't much better mentally. Things kind of came to a head after the 7th anniversary of the end of the battle this year, couldn't really take it anymore, but I didn't attempt suicide and stayed sorta sober so,” he shrugged. “It's alright I guess.”

Without thinking, Draco tried to hug him. But Harry, not knowing this from Draco, dodged and tripped over the coffee table. Hermione caught Harry, but she couldn't do anything for Draco's heart. 

The full weight of this reality hit him, and he left the room as quickly and with as much dignity as he could. Draco locked himself in his bedroom and curled up on the too-big bed.

Hermione alohamora'd herself into the room about half an hour later. Draco didn't move.

“He said he used a potion, and messed it up.”

_ Of course he did. Harry is pants at potions. _

“I'm going to find the book he used and have him put the memory in a pensive. I'll take it all in to work, and we'll try our best to figure out how to reverse it.”

“But you don't think it'll work,” Draco said to his pillow.

“We've got to try.”

Draco grunted, then proceeded to ignore everything else Hermione said until she left (but not before trying to hug him).

He lay like that the rest of the night, not moving, not sleeping. Just remembering his husband, every minute detail and moment. Every kiss, every joke. Everything he'd lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that's it! I may revisit this work in the future and write a sequel to go through everyone's attempts to rectify things (and 24-year old Harry's resistance to the idea that he should go back to his own universe) in order to give yall a happy ending. But, for now, this is all I have. Please comment if you cried, as that was my main goal with this fic ;) (angst competition and all)  
> I also want to give a big thank you to everyone in the Drarry fandom who've written time-travel fics, as yall have been a great inspiration to me.   
> Thanks for reading!


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